Kings and Courts
by Theory G
Summary: Nearly five months now have passed since Andy was saved and the Father Killer was arrested. Only the trial awaits them both now. But what more is waiting for them then simple testimonies? Games are begun. Problems arise for both sides. What happens when unexpected visitors arrive? It's a slam dunk case. So why is Andy still shaking and Tom still smiling?
1. The People vs Thomas Poe

_December 1, 2004_

_7:26 a.m._

_Desert Palm Hospital, Las Vegas, Nevada_

It was the first of December.

Outside it was cool. The blue sky was dotted with puffy white clouds and the bright sun shone down on the never-sleeping city of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Today was going to be my first day out of Desert Palm Hospital since my birthday, four months ago, in August. Today was the beginning of the court trial classified as "The People vs. Thomas Poe."

Thomas Poe – my living nightmare. A man, for over a decade, who'd traveled across the country terrorizing fatherless women. I had been his last victim, his only _living_ victim, but only because he'd wanted it that way. I was sure of it. Over the last few months, that's the only thing I've had to think about.

According to my family – the graveyard shift for the second best crime lab in the U.S. of A – it was a slam-dunk case. And I believed them too. They had all the evidence from every case that the Father Killer, aka Thomas Poe, had committed. Then the DA had me: an eyewitness, a survivor.

Thomas Poe was never going to see the light of day after the jury made their verdict.

Yet my hands still shook at the thought of seeing his horrible grin again and just when I could sleep on my own again, the trial date appeared on my calendar, and the nightmares began again.

Last night was the worst, the most vivid, of them all. Mom and Dad had had to come wake me up. I'd been crying, screaming, calling out for them. They'd come and had held me until I fell asleep again. But today I could barely breathe.

I hated being scared. It twisted everything up inside of me and made my body hurt.

I stood at the window, looking out onto the desert. My leg was all fixed and healed now. All the bruises were gone and there wasn't any scars. It felt good to stand without any help. However, my right forearm was still casted and hung against my chest in a blue sling. Everything else – bruises, fractures – were gone, save my concussion and arm. I still got a little dizzy if I moved too fast. The only reason I'd stayed in the hospital was because of though too things. But next week, I was allowed to go back home with Mom.

Oh, how I missed home.

This morning, Mom had brought over a pair of pants and a pretty navy blue blouse. We'd both agreed that I didn't have to wear anything formal or business like. I just had to at look dressy. Then she'd combed my hair, which had become unruly over the past couple of months, and helped me put on my shoes.

Now I was just looking out the window.

"Andy?" I looked over my shoulder and Mom was standing in the doorway with Dr. Pan, aka Dr. Neverland, as I've come to call him. His name was _Peter Pan._

She smiled at me and I knew it was time to go to court.

….

_7: 54 a.m._

_Clark County Court House, Las Vegas, Nevada_

I sat on a bench attached to the wall outside the courtroom. Mitch stood next to me, his hands on his belt. I carefully drew notes against some music sheet that Greg had been able to find. I had to be careful not to mess up. I still wasn't completely used to writing with my left hand.

Mom squatted down in front of me and tucked a curl behind my ear. I smiled at her, then went back to writing.

I felt her eyes on my face. "You know you don't have to do this, Andy," She told me.

"Yes she does," the District Attorney, Mr. Wilson, a crisp no-nonsense kind of a guy with slicked back hair and smile-less face, mumbled behind Mom.

She ignored him.

I nodded. "I know,"

"We can do this by ourselves. We have all the evidence. You don't have to testify." She insisted.

I smiled reassuringly. "I know, Mom," I dropped my pencil and placed my hand on her shoulder. "I can do this." I _had_ to. I didn't want to be scared anymore.

She nodded. "You know. Of course you do."

"Sara," Dad walked up behind her and put his hand gently on her back.

I watched the two of them intently. For some reason, over past couple of months, Mom and Dad have been a lot more…closer. I knew that was how mothers and fathers were supposed to be, how my friends' parents acted, but I also knew that my parents didn't have a normal relationship. They weren't married, and for all of my memory, save the months of this awkward phase, they barely touched and were usually always uncomfortable around each other.

I wonder what happened.

She looked up at him and pursed her lips. Then she looked back at me. "We'll be in the courtroom."

I nodded. "I know,"

"When it's your time to be questioned by Mr. Wilson and Tom's lawyer, you'll be called in."

"I know,"

"Mitch is going to stay out here with you. If you need anything, just ask him."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Andy?"

"Go to court,"

Dad chuckled. Mom sighed and smiled at me. "All right," she kissed my forehead and then went through the tall double doors with Dad and Mr. Wilson. Once they were in, a court officer inside shut the doors.

Now came the easy part. Waiting.

….

_9:13 a.m._

One of the courtroom's doors opened and released a court officer. He looked up and down the hall for a moment, no doubt looking for me, and once he had, he came over to Mitch and I.

"It's time." He said simply.

I put my notebook and pencil down before looking up at Mitch. He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. "Just do it like you and Mr. Wilson practiced, Andy."

I nodded and then stood for the officer. He gently took my shoulder in his hand and led me into the courtroom.

It seemed like hundreds of people were crammed inside the once gigantic hall. News reporters, their camera men and journalists; officers and CSIs waiting to be called up to the stand; dozens of pedestrians. But then, on the right side of the room in the first two rows of benches, there was Mom, Dad, Warrick, Catherine, Nick, Greg, Jim everybody from the lab and PD, just as they'd said they would be. Even Jethro, who'd promised he'd come back to Vegas for the trial.

And when I walked in, all their eyes were on me.

The court officer escorted me to the very front and then left me with another officer. "Raise your right hand," the officer said. He held a bible. "Place your other hand on the bible."

For a moment, I didn't do as he'd said. I was waiting for him to realize I couldn't.

The judge – Judge Huckleberry, her plaque read – leaned over and looked down at the two of us. She didn't look angry or frustrated. She looked curious. "Is there a problem, Miss Sidle?" She asked.

"Uh, well, Your Honor, I can't," I raised my right arm as best I could in the sling. "I'm a bit lame at the moment."

Some of the people in the hall chuckled. The officer looked embarrassed. Judge Huckleberry's lips formed a perfect O.

The kind judge turned to the officer and said, "Could we perhaps change the order of things, for Miss Sidle?"

"Of course, Your Honor," the officer said.

"Thank you," I told him, placing my right arm on the bible and raising my left hand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

I puffed out my chest, rose my chin into the air, and nodded. "I swear,"

People chuckled again. Even the officer, who nodded at me and led me to the platform beneath the judge's table.

That was when my wall cracked.

I hadn't allowed myself to look in his general direction when I'd walked in, and when the officer had been swearing me to the stand, I'd kept my eyes on him and the judge. But now, from where I sat, I could see everything. I could see him watching me, dressed in a suit and tie, smiling as though he didn't have a care in the world.

No turning back now. I _had_ to face Thomas Poe. I had to confront my fears. And he was puppeteer of all of them.

I swallowed hard and looked at Mom. She smiled reassuringly and I knew all I had to do was stare at that smile and everything would be all right, everything would go on smoothly. But I eyes wouldn't listen to my brain. Neither would my neck. They both turned to face Tom.

He winked and I shivered.

"Will you please state your name for the record?" Judge Huckleberry asked.

I looked up at her. "My whole name?"

"Yes. Please," She answered.

"Andria Laura Sidle," I said.

People chuckled again. I looked around. I hadn't intended on doing anything funny. Yes, the other things, I had intended to do, but only to help me stay relaxed. Mom and Dad would ground me if I went crazy.

Judge Huckleberry smiled patiently at me. "A little louder, please. Into the microphone."

"Right," I nodded. The microphone. The microphone. Where was the microphone? Oh. There. Right in front of me. I leaned forward and bent the microphone's stem so it was closer. I already had to sit on the edge of my seat. I didn't want to fall on national television.

"Andria Laura Sidle," I repeated.

"Thank you,"

"Mr. Wilson," Judge Huckleberry said, and Mr. Wilson rose from his chair in front of Mom and Dad, buttoned his suit's jacket and walked forward towards me.

I held my breath.


	2. From Unsure to Reassure

Sara's POV

I gripped Grissom's hand tightly as Wilson stood up and walked towards the stand. We'd practiced this with Andy for weeks now, preparing her to see Poe and know how to answer his lawyer's questions correctly. Andy had been patient with Wilson as he'd tantalizingly explained everything that would happen today. She'd smiled and nodded for every word he had to say. After two days I would have threatened to shot him if he'd continued the way he was going. Maybe that meant Andy had Grissom's patience?

Hopefully.

"On August Fourteenth Two Thousand and Four, were you taken by Thomas Poe, also known as the Father Killer?" Wilson asked Andy.

She nodded. "Yes,"

"Tell us how you were abducted."

"As you said, Mr. Wilson, it was the Fourteenth of August, and CSI Warrick Brown, a co-worker of my mother's, had just dropped me off at my school, Lyndale Union Elementary, where Thomas Poe had worked as a sixth grade teacher for ten years. I ran to the kindergarten playground and threw my backpack next to my classroom door. That was when Poe approached me. He took my shoulder and led me away from the playground and to the parking lot on the other side of campus, where his car was. When I realized that he was trying to kidnap me, I tried to run, but he caught up with me and knocked me out with some kind of drug.

"He'd told me that he wouldn't hurt me unless I made him." Andy explained.

Grissom gripped my hand tighter.

"And what happened when you woke up?"

Andy, a little tiny fish in an ocean, looked down, away from the rest of us and rubbed her shoulder. I started to get up, but Catherine and Grissom held me down. Andy could do this. She'd said it herself. I didn't have to go up there to help her. But on Gil's other side, Warrick was keeping him from helping Andy too.

"When I woke up…" Andy started, her eyes only on the microphone. She gently tapped the head nervously. "When I woke up, I wasn't at Lyndale anymore…There wasn't any light. Only two doors. One I later learned led up to the house above. The other one was locked. Thomas was on the side of the room, hidden in the shadows." Andy stopped and looked back down again. "My arm…" She lazily shrugged her right shoulder. "My forearm…It was shattered. Thomas told me that he'd used a hammer to break it while I was asleep. Then, he…He took the hammer out again and hit me with it."

"Tell me, Andy, is the man sitting right there," Wilson pointed to Poe, who just sat grinning like an idiot next to his lawyer. I don't understand why he had one. "the man that locked you up and held you captive for two days?"

Poe sat up in his seat and leaned forward, eager. Andy shifted in her seat and looked around the room. For a moment we locked eyes and I saw worry on her features. But then she turned away and stared at the microphone.

Wilson walked up to Andy. "You can tell us, Andy. You don't have to be scared of this man anymore. He can't hurt you."

Andy shivered and looked away from Wilson.

There was silence after that, for a few moments. No breathed, no one moved. No one other than Andy. Everyone could hear her heavy breathing through the microphone. Everyone could see her shift uncomfortably and look around.

"That's it," I heard Nick say. No one stopped him as he stood up and began to shuffle past people into the aisle.

But everyone stopped and froze in their place at what was said next.

"I don't know."

Andy didn't look up from her hands. The sun streaming in through the tall windows to our right made the tears falling from her eyes glitter.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered. "I don't know."

Wilson stumbled back away from Andy and into the DA's table.

Everything was quiet for a moment, then the hall erupted into violent noise. People shouting questions and demanding answers. Relatives of victims of the Father Killer stood up angrily and screamed at Andy, who huddled in her chair and buried her face in her sling.

"Nick!" Gil shouted, standing up next to me. Without hesitation, Nick ran up to the stand and scooped up Andy in his arms. He pressed her gently against his chest and if it hurt, Andy did not complain.

At the front, Huckleberry stood and slammed her hammer against her desk repeatedly, demanding order in the court. When Nick came up to the stand, she pointed at him and then to the door in the back.

"Stokes! Get her out of here!" She ordered, still hammering.

The dozens of officers in the hall made a walk way for Nick in the aisle, but people still pushed and shouted. Reporters waved microphones and pencils. Many hit Nick as he hurried out of the courtroom, the rest of us following suit.

We did not stop until we were in the Denalis and speeding away from the courthouse with our lights blazing.

…...

_10:01 a.m._

_Catherine's House_

We'd all known that we couldn't go to the lab or PD, where dozens of people would be, wanting answers for stories that would scorn my daughter. It was the same at the apartment and Grissom's condo. Even outside of the hospital.

Nowhere was safe for Andy right now. Not after what she'd just admitted. So Catherine had opened up her home to us and offered it to us as a meeting room until everything about the Father Killer died down.

The whole way there Andy had been murmuring how sorry she was. Tears spilled out of her eyes like Niagara Falls and she'd started to hiccup, but known of that stopped her from apologizing and telling us how sorry she was.

"I'm sorry. I'm so – hic – sorry – hic – Mom. I didn't mean – hic – I didn't want – hic – to…" She cried as she walked backwards into Catherine's home, looking up at me.

At the moment I didn't care about her apologizes, I was just afraid that she would trip over her own feet and hurt herself.

Finally, I dropped onto my knees and gripped her arms in my hands. I shook her and held her face in my hand. "Stop it, Andy. We know you're sorry. We all know you're sorry, Andy, just…Tell us what you meant. Tell us why you don't know if that was Poe or not."

"It's Tom, Mom. I know it's Tom. He looks like Tom and acts like Tom, but…I don't know if he's the one that _took _me and _hurt _me." Andy answered, her forehead creased in confusion and her eyes narrow. She shook her head and her curls bounced.

I had her sit and I kneeled in front of her. I placed my hands on her knees. Everyone else stood around us, still, listening and waiting.

"What do you mean?"

"He…" She started, looking like Gil when he couldn't figure out something. "When I called D – Grissom," She corrected herself, but I shook my head and Gil next to her.

"It's all right, Andy. Everyone here knows." He explained, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Yeah. It hadn't taken long for everyone to put the pieces together after Andy had gone missing. Neither of us had tried to hide it and seeing that we were nearly constantly surrounded by trained investigators and detectives, it hadn't taken long for people to figure. Though Nick, oh Nick, had been the last to figure it out, as usual.

Andy watched Gil for a moment, trying to figure if this was a joke or a lie, but when she found no falter in his ocean blue eyes, she continued.

"When I called Dad, Tom was the one who stopped me." She rubbed the back of her head. "That's when I hurt my head. H – He threw me and the doorknob-"

"We know," Gil said, his jaw tight and eyes cold. He desperately wanted to kill Thomas Poe.

Andy nodded, catching on to her father's cool look. "When he picked me up, I saw two Tom's." She shook her head gently. "I know that's what happens when you get dizzy, and for a second, I saw dozens of Toms. But when my eyes focused again, there were only _two_ Toms. The Tom that was holding me and then there was another Tom behind the first Tom. One looked about ready to murder me," Gil and I flinched and Andy noticed. "While the other one almost looked sad.

"And then, when we were back in the Bunker, Tom said, 'Time it perfectly,' and then I heard a door open and shut and that was when Tom took out his gun.

"He looks like Tom and he acts like Tom, he even smiles like Tom," She shivered, "but I don't know if it's Tom. I – I don't feel right saying it's the man that _kidnapped _me. Shot me, yes, but not the one who hurt my arm or took me from school."

"Why didn't you tell us?" I asked.

She shrugged and sniffed. "I…I didn't know what to say. How to explain it. I'm sorry for what I did."

Gil wrapped his arm around Andy's shoulders and gently laid her against his side. He petted her soft curls but looked at me.

"You don't need you're sorry, Andy," Doc Robbins assured. "You told the truth. You weren't sure about Mr. Wilson's question."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, nodding.

"It's still a slam-dunk case." Catherine added. "You told Jim earlier that it was dark. You never had any light down in the Bunker. We'll use that. We have enough evidence to send Poe to jail for a very, very long time, Andy. And he confessed. He confessed to every single murder that he committed. Even if you hadn't testified, we weren't going to let Poe see sunshine every again."

Andy looked between us all – Gibbs, Brass, Warrick and Nick. She didn't say anything, just gave us all a small smile.

Gil kissed the top of her head. "You'll never have to be scared again."

…

Andy's POV

"As long as Thomas Poe is alive, I'll always be scared." I wanted to say, but I couldn't bring myself to it. None of them needed to worry. Not about me.


	3. The Unexpected Visitor

Andy's POV

_December 2__nd__, 2004_

_11:45 a.m._

I didn't go to court today. I don't know whether that was because of yesterday (I was trying to convince myself that it was a slam-dunk case and that my screw up wouldn't really effect it. It wasn't helping much…) or because I just didn't have to go, but I couldn't actually tell if Mom and Dad looked relieved when they told me that I wasn't going.

I spent the beginning of the day with Mitch at home, catching up on the homework that Mrs. Bells was giving me weekly. Originally, once Mom had gone to her asking what I could do since I was getting bored, she would just give me what she'd planned for the week. But what she would give me on Monday, I would have finished on Tuesday. So she'd started to give me everything she did annually, whether it was from the fall or winter, or from spring and summer. I overheard Mrs. Bells last week tell Mom and Dad that I was already finished with half a year's worth of work.

If I did end up missing the rest of my kindergarten year, as Dr. Neverland and Dr. Goodwin predicted, I would more than likely still journey to first grade next fall.

Dad, however, came home early, after having already given his testimony and took me out for lunch at Frank's Diner. Dad got a bacon cheeseburger (he gave me all his fries and I gave him my salad. I needed something fried other than the turkey bacon the hospital had been feeding me for the last three months.) and I got a small steak. Dad had to cut, though, so by the time I got to it, I was already half way full with the fries.

Between bites and sips of cold Cokes, we talked. Well, we _signed._ It was fun, especially since we hadn't done it in so long. It was harder for me, since I couldn't actually use both my hands, and then there were still words and phrases that Dad was teaching me, so sometimes we still had to speak, but most of the time our hands were fluttering around, so when we would laugh, everyone that was in the diner would look at us because no understood.

When we were done, and the rest of my steak was hidden within the holds of a Styrofoam box, we got in Dad's Denali and headed for the lab. Dad had agreed to let me walk around a little and be in a familiar place. Not that home wasn't familiar and Desert Palm hadn't become as known as the back of my hand. Well, the trauma floor anyway.

No one that I really know is there around this time of day. Ecklie is, and though I give him a hug, just to tell him again how thankful I am that he helped find me, that is all I do. He's the new Assistant Lab Director, but a couple of weeks ago, he split my family up. Now Catherine, Warrick and Nick are on the Swig Shift, and only Mom, Dad, Greg, and on of Ecklie's old partners from the Day Shift, Sofia Curtis, are left. But I walk around anyway, and then wander back to Dad's office, where's he's finishing up some work. There I lay on the floor with on of Dad's old entomology books in front of me.

It's a couple minutes after that that I hear Mom's name.

"I-I'm looking for Sara Sidle…The news said she worked here. At the crime lab. In Las Vegas." It's a man's voice. I don't recognize it, and he doesn't sound exactly calm. I look over my shoulder. Dad's still leaning over a file. He didn't notice the man say Mom's name. If he did, he's not acknowledging the act, but he seems to be in his zone, so I crawl over to the door, even though I'm not supposed to.

I stick my head out as far as I can, but all I can see is the man's shoes. Well, boots.

I roll onto my back and scoot out a bit more. The man wore just a pair of old jeans and a light colored shirt (I couldn't tell whether it was brown or green.). From the back, his light brown hair looks clean cut. That was all I could tell from my position. Until, of course, he turns around and saw me lying a dog begging for someone to play with them.

"Andy?" He barely whispers, looking scared and wonder struck all at the same time.

Hurrying, I flip back onto my stomach and crawl backwards.

"Andria Laura Sidle, what do you think you're doing, crawling around on your -" Dad demands, having seen me over his papers.

"Andy!" the man shouts, bounding into the threshold. "It's okay. You don't have to be scared." Past his smoky blue eyes, the man was decently handsome.

Dad was already up, so when the man called my name, he walked out from behind his desk and to my side, where I clamber up his leg and hide behind him.

"You don't have to be scared of me." The man says softly.

Daddy laid a gently hand on my arm, keeping me behind him. "May I help you?"

The man didn't seem to have noticed Dad before. When he finally did, prying his eyes away from me, he said, "I'm Spencer Connolly. I'm Andy's father."

I feel Daddy stiffen and I tighten my hold on his pants. "Andy's father?" Daddy says slowly.

"Yes,"

"Do you have any proof to support this?"

"I was in a..." Mr. Connolly lowers his voice, "_intimate _relationship with Andy's mother in San Francisco during Nineteen-Ninety-Nine."

"I know what intimate means," I say quietly, annoyed with the man.

"That doesn't prove _anything._" Dad says through his teeth. He doesn't even bother to reprimand me about my side comment.

"It's at least enough to warrant me a parental test. And Sara isn't the kind to mess around."

"Indeed not,"

Mr. Connolly shifts his feet. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Gil Grissom. I'm Sara's shirt supervisor."

Mr. Connolly's eyes flash with an emotion that I cannot recognize. Jealousy, maybe.

"Sara's supervisor?"

"Yes,"

Mr. Connolly shifts again. "You two are involved, aren't you?"

Ohhhhh...Oh. _Oh_. Ewwww.

"Gil? You here? The guys were thinking about getting something to eat before shift starts. We need to talk about some stuff too." Jim says, walking into Dad's office. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, you're fine, Jim," Dad says.

"Guys?" Mr. Connolly looks between Dad and Jim. "You mean Sara?"

Jim raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Yes?"

That's all Mr. Connolly needs to take off running out of the lab and towards Mom.

"What the hell's that all about?" Jim demands, stepping out of Connolly's way.

Dad sighs, relaxing. "That's Mr. Spencer Connolly. He thinks he's Andy's father. He must've seen Andy on the news."

"Oh," Jim says.

"Andy, get your jacket. C'mon." Dad ushers me out of the office, behind Jim, and out of the lab, where Warrick's telling Connolly to back away from Mom.

I grab my jacket, but I can feel my hand beginning to shake and my breathing become slightly labored. My stomach is twisted in an uncomfortable way.

Outside, Warrick, Nick and Greg have surrounded Connolly, blocking him from Mom and Catherine on the opposite side of the parking lot. Jim and Dad hurried over, but I hung back. Connolly had started to shout and my knees had begun to shake.

"There's nothing that says that I can't talk to my ex-girlfriend about whether or not that's my daughter in there!" Connolly shouts in Warrick's face.

Nick pats Connolly's back, slightly pulling him away from Warrick, who's last button, it looks like, is holding on by a thread. "No, but you can take to steps back and talk there. There's no reason to all up in her face."

"Maybe I want to."

"Warrick, it's all right." Mom says, taking Warrick's arm. "Spencer, don't get all jealous now."

"What's there to be jealous about, Sara? I just want to know if she's my daughter or not!"

Mom stepped around Warrick and looked seriously into Connolly's smoky blue eyes. "She's not yours, Spencer,"

"How do you know?"

"Believe me, Spencer, I _know._" Mom smiles in that knowing way. "I know."

"I don't believe you. _You're_ the one who broke it off. Was it because you found out you were pregnant? You didn't want a kid to be raised without a father? I'm out of the service now, Sara. Please, just tell me."

"She said Andy's not yours, man. C'mon, take a step back." Nick urged, pulling harder on Connolly's arm.

"Get off me!" Connolly shouts, throwing Nick back, smacking his elbow into Nick's nose. Greg catches him.

"Mr. Connolly, you've gotten your answer. Please leave." Dad says calmly, placing himself next to Mom and putting a hand on the small of her back.

"I just want to know!"

"You know. Now leave or be arrested for assaulting a police officer." Jim warned, stepping up next to Greg and Nick, who's nose was starting to bleed.

Catherine came up behind me and wrapped an arm around the front of me.

"Oh please, he's just a stupid scientist." Connolly snickered.

"Nick! Do you want to press charges?" Jim said in his very commanding, loud voice.

"If it will get this jackass out of here, you bet I do." Nick said, gripping his nose.

Connolly looked around at the faces of all those who were ganging up on him. That was when his eyes fell on me, and he lost all the anger in him. His eyes did not turn away from me and Warrick took a step forward.

"You can stare at her all you want, Spencer, you won't see anything that belongs to you. I'm telling you the truth. She's not yours." Mom said.

Connolly swallowed hard, still not looking away from me.

"All right," He said finally. "I'll leave. This lab." He looks to Mom and Dad. "But I'm not leaving Vegas until I get a parental test." With that, he stomped off towards his rental car. I could see the sticker in the corner of the windshield.

Only once he zipped out of the parking lot did everyone relax. I walked over to Mom, Catherine right behind me, who squatted down in front of me. She brushed some stray strands of my ponytail away from my face. "I'm sorry about that," She apologizes.

I stare right into her brown eyes. I take a deep breath, then lick my lips. "Are you..._sure_ that he's not my dad?"

Mom freezes and everyone looks our way. I look up at Dad. I can see the pain of my question dancing in his eyes. My heart sinks at the thought that I've caused him pain, but I swallow hard and look back to Mom.

"Why...Do you think that he's your dad?" She asks me, watching me intently.

"He said you guys were together the year I was born."

"Only at the beginning, Andy. He was gone by the time I met _your_ dad. _Long_ gone by the time I figured out I was pregnant with you."

"That doesn't mean he's not my dad."

Mom nodded. "Yes, but..." She rubs her hands up and down my arms. "But until you get a bit older, you're just going to have to trust me when I say that Spencer Connolly is not your father. That _your father_," Mom laid a hand on Dad's arm, "is right here and will always be."

I drop my eyes away from everyone, a bit ashamed that I'd asked the question I had, and look out on the street, as if waiting to see Connolly drive back up the avenue. Instead, though, I see a blonde haired man standing on the other side of the street, his hands in his pockets, smiling. My stomach jumps into my throat, and I know that everyone see me shaking.

"Andy?" Mom asks, concern in her voice. "Andy, are you all right? You're shaking. Honey, what's wrong?"

I can't see the color of his eyes, for that's what defines my nightmares from just an ordinary man, but it seems that he's smiling at _me._

"Paranoid," I whisper so quietly Mom barely hears me. "You're paranoid. Just paranoid, Andria. Pull yourself together. Your paranoid."

His lips begin to move, and it's as though I can hear everything he's saying over the loud noise of the traffic.

My eyes water and my breathing quickens. "No," I say. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no...Go away. Please," I grip my head and squeeze my eyes shut. I can feel my heart beating on every inch of my skin. "Please, just go away."

That the last thing I remember is Mom screaming my name.


	4. Secrets

**A little more…awkward comedy, you could say, in this chapter. I thought it would a nice intermission after all the tension and suspension since I first published Return. I've been planning this for awhile and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

** Theory.**

Andy's POV

_December 3__rd__, 2004_

_1:02 a.m._

He just stood there. On the side of the road. Every once and awhile hidden briefly by the cars that passed him by. He was blond haired and green eyed like Tom. And sometimes there was a woman standing next to him. Shorter than the man, but with long dirty blond hair and violet-like eyes. They had different eyes, but the same face, ears and dirty blond hair.

Then, sometimes, Tom was standing on the other side of the man, and every time that he appeared, just after a car passed, my heart skipped a beat, but then, as soon as he'd appeared, he was gone.

They were all just standing there. On the side of the road. Every once and awhile hidden briefly by the cars that passed them by. Just as he had been that morning, when Mr. Connolly stormed off.

As the morning turned to the evening, and then evening drifted into night, dark and black, us just staring at each other, I felt a boulder fall on my chest and breaths came out in short, shallow gasps every second. My body clenched and I couldn't move. I couldn't see or hear or whisper a cry of help to any that were near.

The blackness became darker and darker. So dark that I couldn't feel the water that touched my toes and crawled up my legs. I could feel it, but I could not stop it from coming nearer. It pushed me up, higher and higher until eventually something stopped us from going any farther. It was hard and cold. My hands and face were pressed against it and I could feel the water raising, ready to drown me, but I heard something.

As loud as thunder and as terrifying as those last moments in the Bunker, when everything was lying on that thin blue line, the hardness above me fell around me and a crescent moon now shower it's silver rays down on me, upside down like a smile, as devious as the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

I reached out and flew forward.

My breathing was heavy and shaky, and when I placed my hand over my heart, it was beating as fast and as hard as a drum. My body was flushed with red and heat.

I looked around. My door was closed, there was light bleeding from underneath it. It was the middle of the night and nothing was in my room.

Just me.

But there were sounds coming from outside my room. Not footsteps, which was odd, because I remember both Mom and Dad putting me to bed. Sometimes they would leave for a little while to go do some work, when I actually went to bed at home, leaving me alone at home, but if it was the both of them, unless it was something big, only one would leave.

I threw over my blankets and felt immediately a wave of coolness. Gently placing my feet on the ground, fearful they would work, because I don't think my mind was, nor any organ in my body, I grabbed my baby blankets, the ones I still carry around and sleep with, yes, especially now, and tip-toed to the door.

I opened it a crack and it didn't make a sound. I opened it a bit more and though it groaned for about a single second, the sounds didn't not cease.

I kept my door open enough that if I had to, I could slip in real quick. I didn't want Mom to get on me any more. I got onto my hands – hand – and knees and crawled down the hall. At the very end, I looked left and right, but there was no one in the kitchen or the parlor, I could hear the noises.

I shook my head, brushing back loose hair with my upper arm. I was probably just imagining things.

I crawled back down the hall as quickly as I could, but as I came up to my door I realized that the sound was coming from farther down the hall, on my right side. Or, more appropriately, Dad's room.

I scooted over towards his closed door and placed my ear against the door. It all sounded like the wind. When it was really fast, and in the middle of the night, so you were all paranoid and you thought there were voices, but it was really just the wind. And there was a careful knock kind of a sound.

"_Sara…_" It was Dad. His voice was so quiet, so light, that I barely heard it, but I think I only did because I strained my ear to hear another sound. I don't quite know how to describe, that was why I strained my ears. I didn't know what it was.

There was a pause. Not of the abundance of odd sounds, all cooped up in Dad's room, the quiet man he was, but of talking. Since he said her name, I was guessing that Mom was in there too. But after another sound – maybe…a moan? – I heard Mom whisper, as quietly as Dad had, "_Gil…_"

Curious, but hesitant, since I didn't want to caught, especially when Mom and Dad were talking so quietly, which meant it was something important and I didn't need to know, I carefully poked at the door, opening it just a crack, so I could at least peek an eye in.

The blankets on Dad's bed were sprawled all over the place, like Mom's hair was on the pillows, but the lightest sheet was covering them both, Dad on top of Mom. They had their arms wrapped around each other, eyes closed gently, mouths slightly parted, placing tender kisses on one another and whispering things, even lighter than when they'd whispered their names. I could make out Mom's legs around Dad's waist, underneath the sheet, and though I imagined to be uncomfortable, since they were sweating and sweat got sticky, they were both barely moving against one another.

Mom combed her fingers through Dad's short curls, and though this conversation I could not hear, I could see. Dad put his lips against Mom's ear and told her, "_I love you,_"

At that, Mom almost attacked Dad's lips and cheeks, though covered by his soft but poky beard, and against his lips, as he'd done against her ear – I couldn't see it, but I knew – she whispered something. "_I love you,_"

It took me a moment, but I eventually realized what they were doing and I immediately ran to bed. I don't remember anything after that. I think, instead of repressing that event, I accidently forgot how I copped.

I couldn't look either of them in the eye for the next week, and even after that, I was awkward around them. They all took it as tension over the trial. It was tension! Just not over the trial.

Thank God their eyes were closed.

….

The next day, a Saturday, I found Thomas's gift.

I'd found it underneath Dad's couch, in his office. The team was out and about after another day of trial, because they all had over a decade's worth of evidence - or lack there of – and they all had to give a testimony on each case, that's why Gibbs was here – that, and he'd promised to come. I'd come to friend Special Agent Gibbs and his team while they were staying in Vegas, helping everyone deal with the aftermath of Tom's twisted game, and also standing guard at my door at the hospital.

Hodges was supposed to check on me every ten minutes, though he'd been doing it every five minutes, but eventually it seemed that he was going every twenty because I wasn't really doing anything but reading and doing some extra, not-so-kindergarten-or-anything-else-in-elementary -school worksheets that Mrs. Bells had given Mom for me. So I'd taken off my sling and was moving my arm around, testing it. It worked fine, so I started to toss a ball around, catching it with remarkable reflex, if I might add, especially considering I had metalloid arm.

But when the ball rolled under the couch, that's when I found it.

I don't know how he knew I would, and some might ask how I knew it was from Thomas. There was no proof. But I just knew.

A few minutes later, Hodges caught me and watched me with a disapproving glare as I put my sling back on. He told Mom and Dad, who understood my annoyance and irritation with being so copped up and made to follow their schedules, with barely _anyone_ to do _anything _with, but they warned me too, again, that my arm was still not ready to handle my used-to-be every day life.

I didn't tell any of them about Tom's gift.


End file.
